


Is That A Challenge?

by spookydunmer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, blowjob, its someone's lucky day, someone's gonna get they soul sucked outta they dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookydunmer/pseuds/spookydunmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tags say it all. Someone's gonna get they soul sucked outta they dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is That A Challenge?

**Author's Note:**

> I have been sitting on this fic for nearly a month, just take the damned thing away from me.

If Keith had any sense of foresight, he probably still would have agreed to it.

The four of them were somewhat drunk off of a contraband liquor Lance had smuggled aboard. He'd produced the bottle from seemingly nowhere the minute Shiro had turned his back and left. Keith normally wasn't one to drink, but he also wasn't one to strongly resist when his pride was called into question. Two shots had given him a delicate buzz he was actually enjoying, simply listening to the others chat about their school days together as he sipped his third. 

"Wasn't there that one guy who stalked you for a whole semester?" Pidge was saying, knocking her shot back like a pro. Except for the lightest of pink on her cheeks and ears, there was no way to tell she'd been drinking. "What was his name? Adam?"

"Alex." Lance corrected, speech somewhat slurred. "Yeah, man. Couldn't turn a corner without seeing him for, like, three months."

"Wonder why," Hunk mused. He didn't sound like he was looking for an answer, but Lance offered it anyway.

"Because I gave him the best blowjob of his life."

Keith spat his mouthful of liquor onto the floor. Hunk and Pidge doubled over in laughter, holding onto each other to keep themselves from keeling over into the floor. Lance was mourning the loss with a high-pitched "what the hell, Keith?" 

"C-come again?" he asked. 

Lance grinned, and, before Keith could take it back, replied ,"oh, yeah, he did."

Hunk, at some point, had released Pidge and was now on the floor, crying from how hard he was laughing. Pidge had rested her arms and face on the table. She wasn't making much noise beyond a desperate wheezing, her shaking body nearly causing the half-drunk bottle to topple onto the floor with Hunk. Lance had to grab it to keep it steady, also chuckling at his own joke. 

"What, man? You look like you're surprised."

"Kind of." Keith took a low, long sip, enjoying the way the booze burned a path all the way down his throat, the warmth settling into his stomach. "I mean, you're such a bad pilot, I can't imagine you'd be able to handle it correctly."

There was a small "oooooooohhhhh" from the floor. Lance was still smiling, but something in it changed. His lips pursed, eyes narrowed as he simply stared at Keith. The latter thought he'd glare a hole through his head before Lance decided to speak.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked slowly, enunciating every word carefully.

"And that's our cue to leave." Pidge dragged herself to her feet. "Come on, Hunk. Don't wanna be hungover tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." Hunk slowly climbed to his feet. As he did so, he pointed toward Keith and said, "Make a mental note to never sit in that chair again."

"Yup."

And then there were two, Lance grinning at Keith like he'd already won this battle. Keith considered handing it to him, but he had enough alcohol on his brain to stop himself and think it through. He had, after all, questioned Lance's ability. Lance was willing to prove him wrong. And, if Keith was being honest with himself, it _had_ been too long. So Keith drained his last shot, slouched in his chair, and spread his legs.

"I guess it is."

Lance also finished his drink before standing up. He swayed, grabbing onto the edge of the table, and blinked hard, once, twice. When he could focus, he looked around slowly, and then pointed at the clock. 

"Ten minutes."

"Is that how highly you think of yourself, or how little you think of me?"

Keith didn't like the smile on Lance's face as he placed a hand on either arm rest and leaned in close. Keith was forced to meet his eyes. Deep, dark blue eyes. Eyes that were slightly bloodshot--from too many late nights, from stress, from the whiskey, he couldn't quite tell--but were startlingly clear and focused. On him. Oh, boy.

"Last chance to back out and call it a draw."

"No."

"If you back out later, I automatically win."

"Like I'd give you th--" was all he managed before Lance crashed into him, his mouth effectively silencing Keith’s. Keith felt himself tense up immediately. But he didn’t hate it, so he let his eyes close, focusing on the feeling of Lance’s lips against his. Although the first kiss had been hard and violent, the next few were soft, barely any contact, any pressure, and then Lance licked his lips. Keith opened his mouth to him before he put any thought into what he was doing, feeling their tongues slide together, curl, pull back. Lance put a hand on his chin and applied the slightest of pressure, tilting Keith’s head back, making him face away so that the next place he kissed was the juncture of his throat and shoulder, right above his now hammering pulse. At first it’s feather light touches of lips, his breath, a touch of tongue as he slowly works his way to Keith’s collarbone, and then he bites, sucks, and Keith has to hang onto the chair as his bones turn to jelly. And Lance has barely touched him. He realizes he was not prepared for this challenge.

While Keith is busy trying to figure out if underestimating Lance is a good thing or a bad thing, the latter has already started exploring, his hands ghosting underneath his shirt, fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake. Keith makes a sound he should probably be embarrassed about, but doesn’t have the mind to care at the moment. Lance’s hands are on his stomach, fingers exploring the hair that travels from his navel downwards. Keith is aware of his accelerated breathing, of Lance’s heavy sighs against his skin. 

“Last chance,” he whispers, and Keith says nothing. Taking his silence for the approval that it is, Lance slowly, slowly, _slowly_ unbuttons Keith’s pants and pulls the zipper all the way down. Keith is sporting a pretty impressive erection already, and for a moment it seems Lance has paused to admire it. But then he touches it, a fingertip trailing from base, around the curve, to the tip, and Keith’s breath catches in his throat. Lance has started massaging him, rucking the other man's shirt up to kiss his stomach, occasionally biting and leaving more hickeys, careful that they're in places where Keith can hide them. Keith himself feels boneless, sprawled out in his chair, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath. He's aware of Lance moving lower, lower, until he can feel the other man’s breath on his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. Keith feels like he should say something at this point, but then Lance mouths him, a mere suggestion of what’s to come, and he opts to let out a short moan. Lance kisses his way up his shaft, slowly, sometimes adding the press of his tongue, until he’s reached the zenith of Keith’s tented erection, and slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes it. 

Keith can feel the wetness on his cock, how it continues to leak even after being exposed to the cool air; can feel Lance’s breath, and _God_ , he just needs physical contact again. He doesn't have to wait long.

Lance wraps a hand around him, slowly, letting Keith feel each finger coil over his shaft, feel every slight increase in pressure until Lance has a firm grip on him. His thumb runs just underneath the head, and then caresses the slit, as if the pad of his thumb was made for it. Keith’s hips hitch into it, hands suddenly gripping the armrests of the chair like twin vices. Lance laughs, of all things.

“Are you sure you can handle this, dude?”

“Lance, there's only one thing I want your mouth to be doing right now, and it’s not talking.” Keith was impressed at how steady his voice remained. He even opened his eyes and glared down at Lance. He kind of wished he hadn't. 

Lance still had his hand on Keith, thumb still working. But the look on his face didn't match the smartass tone of his voice. It was almost reverent, lips parted as he licked them, eyes focused like Keith had never seen them. There was a long silence between them, both boys just staring. Finally, Lance cleared his throat. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he replied, trying to smile, and failing, before he repositioned himself. 

Their eye contact never broke as Lance’s hands moved to Keith’s hips, holding him in place as his mouth moved closer. Keith watched, enraptured, as Lance first pressed his lips to the head, kissing it softly, letting his tongue dart out to tease where his thumb had been. And then, never looking away, Lance took Keith into his mouth,hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked, tongue ever present on the underside of his cock. Keith heard himself whimper, thighs shaking, hands trembling. Lance was moving slowly, working his way down, taking his time as he sucked and worked his tongue, never taking his eyes off of Keith. And all Keith could think was _yeah, I’d stalk him too_. He was having to force his legs to stay apart, resisting the urge to close them around Lance’s head and trap him.

He nearly came when Lance took him all the way to the base, nose buried in the dark hair between Keith’s legs, and hummed. That earned him a long, keening moan, and a hand on the back of his head. Lance’s hair wasn't long enough for him to pull, but he found he didn't need to. Lance followed every direction his fingers gave, the way his now heavy panting would suddenly stop in a short gasp. Keith’s back arched away from the chair; his toes curled inside his boots. Lance’s chin and mouth were glistening, reflecting the blue glow of the floor lights. His lips looked swollen already. In the middle of his haze, Keith recognized the song: the Alma Mater of their flight school.

In all fairness, he gave Lance plenty of warning. In the middle of his shallow breathing, he cried out his fellow pilot’s name. “I’m gonna--you don't--God, _Lance_!” and then with a heavy moan he came, and Lance had him down to the hilt. He curled his body toward Lance, the hand on his head holding him down. Lance urged him to the peak of his orgasm, and released only when Keith slumped backward again in the chair, breathing heavily, eyes clenched shut . 

When he could think again, Keith opened his eyes. Lance was still sitting in the floor, obviously roused from his performance. He was sliding the back of his hand across his mouth, looking one hundred percent proud of what he'd just done.

“Well?” Lance asked him, raising one thin eyebrow. Keith remembered that he was supposed to have been watching the clock the whole time. How in the hell did he expect him to do that? He didn't really care so much about winning anymore.

“Yeah. You win.”


End file.
